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All 00.1 - The Other Man
“This court hearing will now commence.” The man who sat in the defendant’s chair was unassuming, almost non-descript. His nose was a little large, his hair beginning to grey, his age beginning to show, but there was nothing about him that seemed criminal. The only hint was his eyes: they were calm, unrepentant, almost sarcastic. He was being tried for illegal use of class 4 alchemy, conspiracy, and nearly 120 counts of first-degree murder. He didn’t look remotely concerned. “Please state your name for the record.” “I’m Doctor Malcolm Cohen.” “Well, good to meet you Mr. Cohen. Or doctor, if that’s what you prefer,” the other man replied. It was afternoon, and class was letting out. The pair walked towards the door; they were in their thirties, a bit older than most of their classmates, but certainly not the oldest. The students at the Academy of the Arcane had wide range of ages. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I was wondering: I don’t see you around much, only here and in potions. What’s your major?” “Maybe you just made an oversight.” “The way you talk in class would make you hard to miss.” Cohen made a sardonic look, “Well, if they didn’t make mistakes I wouldn’t have to speak up.” “Heh. Right. What are you taking anyway?” “Just some courses here and there,” he replied dismissively. “It’s more interest than anything.” The other man grinned, “Right. They don’t let undeclared majors in here, this isn’t Arlington. Seriously, what are you studying? You’re a doctor, so I’d guess conjuration, but, then you’d probably be in at least my applied conjuration course. You’re being dodgy, so, necromancy?” “Keep guessing.” Cohen began to walk away. “No? What else is dodgy, divination? Transmutation?” Cohen didn’t reply, but kept on walking. The other man called after him, “Come on, just tell me what your major is!” “I am an alchemist, registered class 4, sanctioned by the Asonian government for research pertaining to biomedical advancement.” “You studied at the Academy of the Arcane?” “Yes.” “Is this where you did all of your learning?” “As with all alchemy, there’s a significant amount of personal effort required.” A grin played at the corner of his mouth, “We generally aren’t permitted to share notes. People are afraid we’d cheat.” “Please refrain from personal commentary, Mr. Cohen.” “Doctor. It’s Dr. Cohen. I spent more years than you’ve been alive for that designation, use it.” “Sorry, sir. Doctor. Sorry Doctor.” Cohen snorted and returned to his work as the young lab assistant scuttled away. “You really shouldn’t be so hard on them. You aren’t going to get grants if you’ve got a terrible reputation.” “I should hope my work speaks louder than my lack of bedside manner.” “Is that what they told you in medical school?” Cohen didn’t reply, but carried on with his work. “How is it going, anyhow?” the other man asked, sidling up to the table and looking over the array of notes and equipment. “It’s...hard to tell. The formula seems to be working well on mice: increased longevity, senses. N-129 appears to be granting a Spider Climb-like effect, but whether it’s a function of genetic alteration or a side-effect of the alchemical treatment is inconclusive.” He snorted, “The real problem is that it doesn’t matter how well it works in mice. Until I can run human trials, this is all just theory, and we both know that no one is going to give me clearance. It’s frustrating, honestly.” There was a silence over the lab for a moment as Cohen continued scribbling notes. The other man broke the silence, “...What if you had volunteers?” Cohen shook his head slightly, but continued what he was doing. “Whether it’s voluntary or not, I’d still need Academy permission to run the study, which I won’t get. I can barely sneeze without getting my license revoked, and I'd hate to think all of my hassle was wasted.” “I’m not talking about school volunteers. I’m talking about...underground testing.” Cohen stopped and looked at him, rolling his eyes as he turned. “Just say what you’re thinking. I hate your hyperbole.” “Look, I’ve told you before, right? The magic movement, all those people sitting there praising magic and progress.” Cohen just blinked at him impatiently. “They would support our work, they’d love it. Advancing technology, advancing people themselves! They’d volunteer, they’d flock to it, and we’d be at the front, leading the way to a better humanity.” “This sounds both time consuming and frustrating,” Cohen turned back. “And it’s my work.” “Your work, yes. Of course,” the man coughed. “It’s an opportunity! Think of it! Humanity finally realized, with people like us shepherding them to the future, where mortals have all of the strength and abilities of the other planes, where we aren’t physically just animals shovelling dirt around until we die. If only you bothered to tell people, they’d be falling over themselves to get treatment!” “I’d also rather the government not get their nose in my business. A hangman’s noose is low on my list of priorities.” “Just look, I’ll go hunt around. Find some quiet people, nothing big. Just a few willing volunteers who share our vision. You’ll get human trials, proof of concept, more people will want in...it’s foolproof.” “It’s fool something,” he muttered. “We won’t get any farther by sticking mice. We won’t get any farther without some risk.” Cohen sat quietly for a long moment, his pen scribbling away. “You want to die knowing you could have changed the world and didn’t?” The pen tip stopped. Cohen sighed slowly, “Do whatever you need to. If people show up, then who am I to deny their willingness to progress science.” The other man smiled. “Great! You just keep calculating, and I’ll take care of everything else.” “That was my intention.” “And you continued these experiments knowing full well that they were in contravention of no less than 3 statutes regarding responsible use of alchemy?” “Obviously.” “And how many people did you conduct these experiments on?” “In total, one hundred and sixteen.” There was a murmur from the crowd assembled, watching the trial. The prosecutor continued, “And were every one of those people involved in the group known as the Children of Rapture?” Cohen rolled his eyes and sighed, muttering, “I still can’t believe they called it that.” “It’s a religious movement, it needed a religious name. The followers eat it up.” “Speaking of, I don’t know what you’re telling these people, but some of them are referring to me as a prophet, and frankly it’s beginning make me uncomfortable.” “Oh, come off it, we’re both prophets! Informing the masses of a better future! Leading the way with our visions!” “It’s getting out of hand. There are too many people, they’re getting too involved, and it’s going to unravel like a cheap suit when eventually it starts getting around that there’s a cult in Losanti. You were supposed to get volunteers for a scientific study, not start a religion!” “You worry too much. They won’t tell anyone, they’re completely loyal to their prophets. I told you from the start that we could have so many followers if you could just sell it right, and now look! Over fifty people praise the prophets of the new era! In just a few years, we could have hundreds of followers. Thousands! And more wealth and power than we could dream of.” “That was never the point.” “Well, it’s a good thing I can dream for both of us then. You’re worried about being in Losanti? I’ll take care of it.” “What do you mean by that?” “The question is clear, Dr. Cohen. Nearly one hundred people are still missing, all of whom have family or friends who knew they were part of the Children of Rapture, many of whom were reported as saying that they were going to a place called Rapture. Where did you put those people?” “I didn’t put anyone anywhere.” “Then where did those people go? Where is Rapture?” “I don’t know.” “You are under oath, and…” He cut him off, “And I am under a Zone of Truth and I am telling you I don’t know where this Rapture place is, if it is an actual place that they’re referring to.” “It must have been mentioned in your presence. Why don’t you know this information, which apparently a hundred of your followers knew?” “Honestly, I’d rather not know things that could only be a liability.” “Well, what if you need to teleport here yourself?” Cohen looked at him flatly. “Because I’m not spending the money on a scroll, and, as you seem fond of forgetting, I’m not a wizard.” “Right, right, well, that’s your problem. Come on, let me show you around.” The other man led Cohen around the mostly empty commune. It was a well-built stone bunker, complete with amenities. Several hundred people could live there easily. The man had built it himself with some of the Children, using magic to form and outfit the building. At least Cohen assumed it was a building; the windows that looked out onto a pleasant spring afternoon were enchantments, he could tell, so maybe it wasn’t a building at all. As they walked, the other man spoke of how they would move their operations here, how they wouldn’t be bothered by authorities, and how they could continue to increase their numbers, their vision, their power. At the end, Cohen was still less than impressed. “I don’t have to move here, do I?” There was a look of bitter harshness in his expression as he replied, “What? Isn’t good enough for you?” “I prefer to live somewhere where I can go out without being surrounded by crazed zealots. Also, communal living has never particularly sat well with me.” “What is wrong with you?” He gave a short, incredulous laugh. “Look at what we’ve done! We have over a hundred people worshipping us as prophets! We’re improving humanity on a fundamental level! We’re starting a brand new era of civilization, and you’re complaining?!” Cohen gave him a sidelong look, but held his tongue. Instead of responding, he turned away and said, “I have better things to be doing right now. I need to check subject 81, and screen a potential subject 112. Take me back to Losanti, if you would.” The other man sneered, “I’m not your taxi.” “I never said you were.” “You’re always complaining. Always looking down on people.” “I hold people in very high regard. I’ve spent my whole life in service to people.” He returned the other man’s cold glare. “It’s individuals who tend to irritate me.” His eyes narrowed, “You wouldn’t have gotten half as far as you have without me.” “Think what you will.” The prosecutor glared, but dropped the point. He looked at his notes and started anew. “You weren’t the only mastermind behind the Children of Rapture, were you?” “No, they had an inner circle. 21 people. Administrative and...ritualistic responsibilities, I suppose you’d call them.” “They were the 21 people found dead upon your capture, yes?” “Yes, that should have been all of them.” “They were the ones you claim knew where Rapture was, and were recruiting new members.” “Yes, they were the longest-running subjects. When it developed from an experiment to, pft, a cult, they were promoted and took on additional responsibilities.” “Take this seriously, Dr. Cohen.” “Oh, I am, I am.” “Several witnesses have agreed that some members referred to two prophets. One of them is yourself, correct?” “Yes, I am their prophet.” “Who was the second prophet?” “Who?” “The second prophet. What was their name?” “There was never a second prophet.” “Explain.” “I was the one they called prophet. I did all of the real work. One of the twenty-one, though, he was really rather taken with the whole religion aspect. Wanted to be a prophet himself. I think he just called himself one, and wanted it to catch on.” “Why would he do that?” “Who wouldn’t be jealous, in the face of my intellect?” “Intellect?! INTELLECT?! You mix drugs! You sit and pretend you’re so clever, when really you’re nothing but a dealer too lazy to go find his own clients! I founded this group! They listen to ME. It’s MY following, and you’re only here to mix injections!” He spat, “And now you’re the one who’s going to take the fall.” Cohen’s eye’s narrowed. “What...” “You heard me. The cops are coming. They know what you’re doing here. But they don’t know about Rapture. So, right now? The inner circle are all shooting up, thinking it’s their normal dose. When the police get here, they’ll all be dead, with you in the center holding the bottle. It’s your name that the followers use, not mine; I’m going to Rapture, and we’ll ride this out, and I'll lead them to the glorious future of the new human race.” He held out his hands to cast a spell, “So, do you want to lay down now, or should I put you to sleep first? Can’t have you looking like you struggled. Ritual suicide will be easier to explain away.” Cohen’s expression shifted about as the other man spoke, moving from mild shock to anger to calm resignation. He turned his back as a spell was begun to be cast, methodically reaching about the lab table in front of him. The other man finished his motions with a flourish, but nothing happened. Less than nothing, as he could tell the spell didn’t even complete. A tinge of panic and anger painted his eyes as he tried a second time to the same result. Cohen, with uncanny speed, whipped around and let fly something from his hand towards the other man. Before he could react, the hollow metal dart had pierced into his neck. Scrabbling with his hand, he pulled it out and threw it on the ground. He turned to run, but tripped, his limbs becoming heavy and clumsy. Cohen moved forward, still methodical and calm, as the other man struggled but became weaker and more limp. “Really, magic is so unreliable. One little anti-magic field, and twenty years of training are worthless. It’s been here so long, you stopped even noticing it when you came in.” The alchemist reached down and flipped the other man over to look at his face, his eyes terrified as they began to gloss over. “I knew this would happen eventually. You always said this was our work, when really it was only ever mine. So jealous, so powerless. You wanted to be a king, a god, and for a little bit I let you pretend. I’m far too nice, since now I get to be executed for your little fantasy. Maybe I’ll be lucky and only get life in prison, and can continue my work. Like you said so long ago, it would be a terrible shame if I were to die before seeing my work to completion. But I digress, you were a good assistant; I made excellent progress over the last two years. Unfortunately, here’s where we part ways. Oh, and I’ll tell you before you go, that, in exchange for ruining my research, I’m going to ruin you as well. Or at least your illusion. I’m going to put you with the others, so when the police find your body, you will just be subject 00. Just another early-adopting, drug-addicted cultist. I'm the only important one, so the credit, and blame, is all mine. There was never any other 'prophet' than me. We both knew that.” “I...am…” he tried to form a sentence, but the words died on his lips along with the rest of him. His eyes glassed over, and he fell limp. “...dead. Yes, you very much are,” Cohen completed his final sentence before picking him up to place with the others. “So, when anyone asks, if they do, I'm going to tell them that…” “...He was just some other man.” Cohen said to the prosecutor, his sardonic smile still clinging to his eyes. Category:Advent of the All